"Sorcerers Mountain" by Matthew J Nauth

My mountain, my mountain,

Steady and old,

Here it has stood for ages untold.

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My mountain, my mountain

I stand upon,

Here I live in silence so long.

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My mountain, my mountain,

Covered by wild,

Here the forest stands and whispers its secrets,

To my mountain’s land.

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My mountain, my mountain,

Of gurgling springs,

Here runs the river that helped to create,

The valley that graces the foot of my mountain.

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My mountain, my mountain,

Under blue skies,

Here falls the rain that brings new lives.

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My mountain, my mountain,

One day does shake,

The ground beneath me dances and quakes.

As the spell finally breaks.

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My mountain, my mountain,

Is no longer mine,

My mountain of immovable stone,

On which once sat my throne,

Has fallen.

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My mountain, my mountain,

Is no longer mine,

The ground is now flat and as the dust clears, I look.

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My mountain, my mountain,

Still wild and free,

Yet the trees lay uprooted and half buried,

they moan of their sorrow to my fallen mountain.

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My mountain, my mountain,

The springs have gone,

Yet the river still flows, robbed of its valley,

Changed of its course,

It flows far from my fallen mountain.

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My mountain? My mountain?

No.

I do not weep for my fallen mountain and my broken spell

For it was my doing, all along.

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I am not sad, for now:

My plains, my plains.